Chapter Eight
“The mind is the key; the heart is the door; the soul is the corridor; the universe is the destination.”
—Matshona Dhliwayo
“The other day while I was at the library relaxing with my usual stack of picture books and trashy magazines—don’t judge me,” she speared him with a look through her lashes.
“I wouldn’t dare,” he promised.
“—a story caught my eye. It was of this woman who was going through therapy because she was suffering ‘post-traumatic symptoms’ from the death of her twin.”
Ben blinked at that.
He didn’t know what he was expecting when she offered to share a story, but it wasn’t…that.
He thought maybe she’d tell him about her own background, any family she might have, how she came to be here in the Yukon. But perhaps she was just winding up for it. Perhaps she’d get there eventually.
In any case, he was happy to keep her company and listen.
Ruth seemed…lonely.
At the same time, she also seemed perfectly comfortable in her aloneness. He’d never seen her socialize with anyone else in town. She also didn’t project sadness or melancholy. But then, neither did he.
Maybe that’s why he was drawn to her. They were kindred souls. Strangely enough, the pressure within his chest lessened when he was with her.
“The woman—let’s call her Miss X—told her therapist about the grief of losing her sister, the physical pain too, like losing a vital piece of herself, maybe her heart or even her limbs. The therapist called it ‘psy-cho-so-matic.’”
Ruth licked her lips after carefully enunciating the word, as if it left a strange taste in her mouth.
“Lord, these modern terms are difficult. There’s a term for everything these days, isn’t there? And there’s a type of therapy for every condition. Even when the condition is simply being human.”
Ben murmured his agreement.
He didn’t judge whether it was a good or a bad thing, to diagnose, define and treat every little twitch or thought. To put a label on everything. He agreed with what Ruth was implying—that people should just be. That people should let people be. And allow for the possibility of change and transformation; of becoming something different over time.
The possibility of growth.
Else, what was the point of living?
“Anyway, Miss X was suffering something fierce,” Ruth went on, her eyes on her knitting, not looking at Ben.
“She didn’t feel alive anymore. She was a shell of her former self. When she was with her twin, she felt like they could do anything, conquer every obstacle together. She was sometimes alone, but she was never lonely. It was the two sisters against the world.”
She licked her lips and paused in her knitting, gazing out the window. Her face took on a faraway expression.
“Their parents were these powerful, rich scions of society. They had too many other demands on their time, so they left the girls to their own devices. Miss X had no other playmates growing up. Other children weren’t like her. There were unspoken rules about…mixing with those who were not from her class.”
She curled her fingers in quotation marks at the end.
“She didn’t really mind the seclusion or constraints,” Ruth went on.
“She had her twin, after all. She was content, after a fashion. She knew early on that she was different from other children. The therapist said she was ‘on the spectrum.’ While the sisters understood each other perfectly, often communicating without words, they didn’t understand or empathize with others. As if they were a separate species from the rest of the world. The way predators wouldn’t empathize with their prey.”
She glanced back at Ben, her unknowable gaze riveting on him, her sharp eyes glinting.
“Oh, but once in a blue moon, the lioness comes across a buffalo she can’t help but respect. And as much as she wants to devour him, she wants to keep him whole too, because he is too magnificent to ruin. She likes it when he challenges her, when he runs so she could give chase. And even better when he holds his ground so she could test her formidable will against his.”
Ben’s pulse spiked suddenly, and he didn’t know why.
But Ruth knew, for her glittering gaze focused immediately on his throat, as if she could see the vein throbbing there.
“But I digress,” she murmured, dropping her eyes to her knitting again as she started clicking the needles to an almost soothing, staccato beat.
“It was the two sisters against the world,” she repeated.
“So, when her twin was gone, Miss X felt the loss even more keenly than the average person. One who has family and friends, who knows how to live with others as well as by themselves. A ‘well-adjusted’ person, you might say.”
Ben still wondered distantly why she was telling him this story. And then she flicked her eyes up to meet his once more.
“I can relate to Miss X, you see. I lost my twin as well. She was the only person I had in this world to call my own. And I was hers.”
Ben wanted to say something to soothe that bereft look on her face, but he couldn’t find the right words.
She didn’t need them, apparently, for she wasn’t done.
“But that’s not what drew me to that article,” she said.
“After a couple years of therapy, the world-renowned doctor led Miss X to a revelation she’d never considered. Something she knew, but didn’t recall. A truth she’d buried at the bottom of her psyche. Whether she did it to protect herself or because others made her forget, she didn’t know.”
Ben couldn’t help but lean forward, elbows on the table, as he listened more closely.
Ruth said: “Miss X never had a twin. She’d always been an only child.”
Ben’s lips parted on an inaudible release of breath. It felt like the bottom just fell out of his stomach. His head was spinning. The world was tilting.
And the floodgates to his suppressed memories were blown apart, making them rush to the forefront of his consciousness. Overwhelming him to the point of losing time for a few seconds.
He struggled against the blackout, his mind flickering like a burnt-out light bulb that wanted to die. He wouldn’t let it. He couldn’t lose the light.
Not now. When he was so close…
To what, he didn’t know. But he had to reach for it. Despite the nausea and visceral pain rocking through his entire body. He had to hold onto this.
It was too important.
As if through a long, dark tunnel, he heard her words as she continued with the story.
“She’d always been different from everyone else,” Ruth repeated.
“She was capable of things no one else was capable of. Her parents thought she might be a danger to society, given her unnatural…gifts. So, they isolated her from the world when she was a child. But children, more than anyone, need care and stimulation. Companionship. Affection. However different Miss X was, she still needed that.”
“So, she gave the things she needed to herself. Eventually, the image in her mirror took on a life of its own. It looked just like her, but was her opposite and complement in every way. It wasn’t good or bad, dark or light, just as she wasn’t either or. They were both at any given time. They were simply always what the other lacked. And she was never alone again after that, because her reflection, her shadow, accompanied her everywhere.”
“But just as people diagnosed with ‘multiple personalities disorder’ truly believe that there are separate, distinct people living in one body, and everyone else realize the same as they interact with them, so, too, did Miss X’s shadow become reality. She truly was her twin. She was her own person, distinct and separate but part of her too.”
“Was it little wonder that they became enamored of the same buffa—that is—man?”
Ben jerked at that, as if he’d been shocked by an intense jolt of electricity.
“But that is a story for another day,” Ruth said, a strange, bitter smile hovering on her lips.
Paralyzed and shaken, Ben watched her pack up her knitting in a large canvas bag and scoot carefully out of the booth.
“Goodbye, Benjamin,” she said softly, laying a hand briefly on his shoulder, jolting him again.
“We won’t meet again, I feel. Remember this story when the time comes. It’s so easy to forget. Look at me. I’ve forgotten all these years. Maybe I did it on purpose to avoid the pain of remembering. But the truth will always come out, you see, no matter how far down we bury it.”
And then—
She was gone.
Ben didn’t recall her walking away and out of the diner. He sat in the booth in a dizzying daze, staring fixedly at the condensation accumulating on the outside of his water glass and as it slowly bled onto the table.
Eventually, he got up and left himself, remembering by rote to leave money for the food and drinks. He walked without a destination in mind, but his feet knew where his heart wanted to go.
At last, he found himself on a hill overlooking the foot of Mount Wilson where the Tiger King’s enclave dwelled and trained. He sat down and drew his legs up, arms draped over his knees.
It was late afternoon. The animal spirits weren’t out and about yet, so the valley was quiet and peaceful. He soaked in both the calm and wildness of the wide-open space, taking measured deep breaths to recenter himself. Blanking out all thought.
Simply…being.
He watched the sun slowly set in the horizon, reaching out its fiery tentacles across a violet and pink sky. A breeze swept through his clothes and hair, teasing his senses to alertness.
That’s when he heard soft footsteps in the grass behind him.
Someone was approaching.
But Ben knew who it was even before they took a seat beside him, mirroring his pose.
He felt it.
“Hello, Benjamin,” his companion greeted.
“Michael,” he returned, turning his head to look at the man.
When Michael looked back, Ben saw the same depths in his eyes that he’d seen in Ruth. They hadn’t been there before, he knew. Yet, now, there was a wealth of knowledge and experience.
A knowing and understanding.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
Ben wanted desperately to reach out and cup Michael’s face, make skin-on-skin contact to ground himself. To convince himself that this was real. That he was real.
He didn’t. He wasn’t ready.
Or he was too fucking scared.
Of what, he didn’t know. Anguished memories? Present mindfuck? Future pain?
All of the above, perhaps. And then some.
“I’m Michael,” the man answered.
“And Ruth. And Eve,” he added matter-of-factly, as if it was the most natural thing to do.
Ben took a deep breath, forcing himself to ask:
“Who else?”
Michael cocked his head a little, his eyes assessing Ben, as if trying to measure how much to reveal without totally breaking Ben’s sanity.
“I’m a lot of things to a lot of people,” he said finally.
“Most recently, you would have known me as Miss Seventh when you and your friends visited the Celestial Realm.”
Miss Seventh…Miss X…
Twins…
Goddesses…
Pure and Dark…
Lilith…Lilly…
Abruptly, Ben leapt to his feet. He walked away without another word. He could feel Michael looking after him. But the other man didn’t get up. Didn’t pursue him.
Ben needed to get away.
But where did you go when it was your own heart, mind and soul you wanted to escape from?
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
Well, that went well.
Not.
Michael sat on his hill as dusk descended, watching the Beasts come out to play.
On the one hand, he finally found the way to merge with Ruth—by remembering what he’d chosen to forget. On the other hand, he probably fractured a fragile human mind when he told all of this to Ben.
But then, Ben was much stronger than the average human. Ben’s soul was the strongest of all. So bright and pure. So compelling that Michael endeavored to grow his own just to be closer to him. To understand and empathize in ways a god could never do.
Funny, how memories could lie.
The stories one told oneself could take on the veneer of truth with repetition. Eventually, with enough repetition and time, they became truth. And the real truth became so buried and forgotten, it felt like a lie even when you accidentally stumbled upon it.
In the beginning, there was Darkness…
Out of Darkness and Light emerged Immortal beings, each with the might of a fiery star. Their names changed with the changing times, but their magic remained constant and true…
And of these brilliant, starry beings, two shone the brightest of all. One borne of Darkness and One borne of Light…
Except, there had only ever been One. Light and Darkness were merely two sides of the same coin, or two halves of the same being.
Michael remembered.
Given that the Truth happened tens of thousands of years ago, he couldn’t really be blamed for forgetting it. Maybe it was the magic of the Dream and Song rings he wore, helping to surface these memories and reminding him to hold onto them before he forgot again.
Whatever the case, he remembered…
Age of Gods. Tens of thousands of years ago.
The Jade Emperor and the Queen Mother of the West had countless offspring. As long lived as these supreme gods were, this was not surprising.
But none of their creations were capable of being The One.
The One who possessed the power to succeed the ruling pair. Just as the Jade Emperor succeeded his predecessor untold eons ago.
Back then, at the dawn of time, the universe had been a much simpler place. Just as chaotic perhaps, just as savage. But it was ruled by immutable forces like gravity and nature, fire and earth.
Much later, there came water. With water, came life. Life was pure and simple. The rules of the universe expanded to accommodate survival of the fittest and living beings’ drive to procreate, to leave some trace of themselves after such a brief, hard-won existence.
Over time, complex beings arose. Countless cycles of them before humans walked the earth. And all of them began with the Jade Emperor’s spark. Unique sparks that then propagated into more sparks. That then became living beings that populated the world as we knew it.
Then, tens of thousands of years ago, an Aberration occurred.
One spark blazed brighter and hotter than the rest, than any across the infinite creations of the Jade Emperor and his Lady Wife. And they knew, awed and terrified both, that this was The One.
The spark coalesced into the form of a wriggling pink body. A girl child. Rather defenseless and ugly in that initial stage. Hairless. Small. Unable to speak. Unable to even think complex thoughts.
The ruling pair wondered whether they’d been mistaken. Surely, this tiny thing couldn’t be The Destroyer of Worlds, the Usurper of Gods.
And then, the babe stared at them with eerie, iridescent eyes. Within them swirled the infinite colors of the cosmos. Entire universes were waiting to be born, created by the babe’s mere thought, by her boundless imagination.
They couldn’t help but be mesmerized.
Even the Jade Emperor didn’t have such powers. His creations kept repeating themselves with little variation over the eons that he’d ruled. Logical, intelligent creatures though they were, there was nevertheless wars, disease, famine and ultimately, extinction.
While they existed, they built astonishing, advanced civilizations, created complex cultures and religions. And the ruling pair watched over them with other accompanying Immortals from a removed distance. Until the need arose to spread the sparks again.
But within this youngling’s eyes, they saw infinite possibilities and every extreme. There was balance in the extremes, but there was also great risk. If ever the balance tipped, entire worlds could end.
She cannot be left like this, unchecked, the Queen Mother of the West said to her Eternal Mate.
She is just a seedling, the Jade Emperor argued, brushing his energy along the little girl’s petal-soft cheek.
She gurgled and smiled at the warmth he gave her, turned her face into it, seeking more.
She will not be for long, the Queen Mother predicted. This is the most vulnerable that she will ever be. We must do something before it’s too late.
But the Jade Emperor was lost in that radiant, uncomplicated smile. It tugged at something protective within him.
He knew that his Mate didn’t mean the child harm. She only wanted to contain her burgeoning powers. Control them so they didn’t wreak havoc upon the universe accidentally.
But he couldn’t bear to contain something so vast, to limit The One’s potential for greatness. Even if it could be reversed later, at the right time.
I will call her Seven, the Jade Emperor said.
His Mate flicked a look at him.
You skipped one, she noted.
Indeed, he did, purposely skipping the number Six. Though he did not explain his reason.
There had only been five sparks before this that they thought could be The One. He always named his other creations by characteristics that described them, not by number. Over time, it was confirmed that none of the five turned out to be The One.
Perhaps time would disappoint them with Seven as well. There would be numbers after her too.
But…
They both knew that she was different.
Thus, under their careful watch, the babe grew rapidly into a stronger form. Within days, she was five times her original size, beginning to walk now, able to talk and telepath. She was insatiably curious, soaking up the world around her, hungry for knowledge.
There were few other Immortals like her, for there were almost no children amongst the gods. Many were created fully formed. Everyone else was bigger, physically stronger. But her mind and will were the strongest of all.
She had only to think something, and it would happen. And while she did not abuse her greater powers, it was soon revealed that she didn’t have perfect control of them.
Because she was unique in her existence, there were none who could partner her. She realized this almost right away and began to create her own playmates. Thus, fantastical flora and fauna came into being, and she giggled with happiness to see them thrive.
When she was ten times her original size, now adept at running and leaping, in full control of her graceful limbs, she imagined a creature who could run and leap alongside her. A beautiful animal with bright eyes and silky fur who would purr with joy when she petted him.
The being she created was the same growth stage as she was, the better to partner her in life. He was a youngling too. They chased each other through the lush landscapes of her imagination, laughing with abandon, lost in their own world.
The other Immortals grew jealous of this shining star and her favored pet, as powerful beings were wont to do. Some of them had always known about the Prophesy, but never truly believed it.
Until now. Until they gazed upon Seven and saw with their own eyes what she could do.
A few of them got the idea to push her a bit, to see what she was really capable of. After all, when pushed, the previous five had shown their weaknesses, proving that they couldn’t possibly be The One.
This wasn’t the first time they challenged her. Even in her infant stage, she had impenetrable protective shields. They didn’t know whether it was her own strength that projected them, or because the ruling pair helped her. Whatever the case, they hadn’t been able to get the better of her.
But now that she created a playmate and clearly coveted the beast above all others, the other gods homed in on her vulnerability.
One day, one of the Immortals managed to lure Seven into a deep sleep, ensnared her within a convoluted web of dreams. They knew that if they attacked her while she was unconscious, her protective shields would alarm, and she would instantly awake.
But if they were to go after her pet…
The little beast was not easy to capture, despite that he was still new and untried. He ran and hid, then fought ferociously when cornered. None of the gods who hunted him escaped unscathed.
In her dreams, Seven heard her beast’s roars of agony and growls of fury, as well as his fear for her for he knew he could no longer protect her when this was done.
And then, her heart thudded to an abrupt halt. The last beat echoed ominously in the cage of her chest.
Until there was no more.
No more beast.
No more spark.
No more heart.
He was gone, gone, GONE!
Seven clawed her way out of the prison of dreams, and when she awakened, she came with a sky-splitting, earth-shattering scream.
Her entire being became a blazing star, blasting outwards across the universe. Wherever the intense energy touched, worlds crumbled, turned to dust as if they never were.
Her rage was indiscriminate. The gods who’d hunted, tortured and killed her pet were the first to meet their agonizing demise, but they weren’t alone. She didn’t care who perished with them. Didn’t even try to target her rage.
She was inconsolable. A black hole of grief and devastation. And she swallowed everything in her path until only void remained.
The Jade Emperor and Queen Mother witnessed the destruction from afar, awed and terrified, the same intense feelings they felt when Seven had first come into being. There was nothing they could do to stop her. Their own powers allowed them to be removed from her sphere of annihilation, but they could save no one else.
Until, finally, abruptly, she stopped.
Just like that.
Only silence and nothingness remained.
The immeasurable resonance of her energy reduced to her childlike form again, and she slept. So peacefully, it’s as if everything that came before had been naught but a dream.
But two witnesses remained. They knew the truth.
She was The One.
The Queen Mother was right. They could not let Seven exist without restraint. They could not destroy her either, once her spark was created. But she could destroy them, as the Prophesy foretold.
Given the untold eons of their existence, the Jade Emperor and his Eternal Mate did not fear their own removal from the universe. It was the way of things, and each had their own role to play.
But there was much for Seven to learn before they could leave Creation in her hands. There was no Balance within her. The only Balance was all or nothing. Utopic worlds or utter devastation.
But what could they do? How could they limit something that was limitless?
They kept her in the deep sleep she’d fallen into for as long as they could. One by one, they created new sparks and propagated those into a brand-new world.
When Seven stirred to wakefulness, they kept her isolated in a different plane, a different realm. There was no one else there, only Seven herself.
The Jade Emperor and his Mate used all of their combined powers to keep her sedated in this way; even her imagination was dulled. The potential always remained, but it was effectively banked. She could only create simple things in this nebulous realm, and none of them contained the spark of life.
Eventually, as the world outside of her imprisonment began to flourish again, Seven herself grew used to the containment. A dispassionate coldness wrapped around her, infused into her empty core. A ball of ice and steel grew where her heart used to be.
For the sake of the Universe and her own sanity, she could not afford to be vulnerable again.
She began to talk to herself, for thousands of years of isolation could drive a being to such lengths. Talking to the abyss just to hear a voice, even if it was her own.
Then, one day, she created a mirror-like pond to look into. She spoke, and the reflection spoke back. Almost as if it were independent from her.
Like a twin.
And Seven had an idea:
If she could not create other sparks in this realm, perhaps she could split her own.
It meant that she would halve her powers, but she didn’t care. Surely, her twin would never betray her. They would always have one another. She would never again be alone.
Thus, the reflection in the mirror-pond took on a life of its own. Shadows gathered and coalesced so that Seven’s light could shine brighter.
And because her powers were reduced by half, as were her twin’s, so did the risk of letting her out into the world.
But as long as they are together, they can still create immeasurable havoc, the Queen Mother warned.
Not if they believe that they are separate, distinct beings, the Jade Emperor murmured thoughtfully.
They would not consider merging if they have no memory of being One. We could mark their release into the universe as the birth of two stars, the Pure and the Dark Goddess. The Twins. With their threat to the universe lessened this way, they will perhaps have the time to truly learn and grow.
But how long will that take? How do we know they will grow together rather than apart?
From the weariness in her voice, the Jade Emperor knew that his Mate wished to hand over the reins of their rule to someone capable of holding them. But that “someone” was not yet ready.
Not nearly.
They would have a long time yet to wait. Watch and wait. And perhaps guide. That was all they could do.
Even if they grew apart, the universe will contrive to bring them together again. I do not worry about that. It is only a matter of time.
But you do worry, the Queen Mother noted.
Yes, the Jade Emperor confirmed solemnly.
They might be able to balance each other, and their reduced powers will create balance with others. But one day, they must still find their better half, just as I have found it with you. Even though they will perceive it as a vulnerability. Even if they fight the rightness of it with every step. They must learn to diffuse all of their extremes, learn to appreciate and protect those who are far weaker than they.
Which is everyone else, the Queen Mother sighed almost woefully, showing what she thought of the seemingly insurmountable challenge before them.
Indeed, the Jade Emperor agreed.
Thus…
Out of Darkness and Light emerged Immortal beings, each with the might of a fiery star.
And of these brilliant, starry beings, two shone the brightest of all. One borne of Darkness and One borne of Light. The Twins were inseparable, each the mirror image of the other. Where one’s dream ended, the other’s began. Where one spoke her heart’s desires, the other made them come true…
Ah, but there was no “heart,” was there?
Michael could feel the hollowness within his chest. In the same sense that Eve was a blank slate, so easy to forget.
Over Seven’s various incarnations, there had only been two memorable times when that missing heart skipped a phantom beat and threatened to grow anew—
With the creation and death of Byakko. And when Lilith found her leopard Beast.
Perhaps it was a good thing that she never recovered it. Perhaps it was a disaster narrowly avoided. After all, look what happened the first time. The entire universe had collapsed in on itself when she lost it.
And yet…
Seven was no longer a god. Even her twin was gone. She was now stuck in two remaining human forms. Reduced to almost nothing from her former awe-inspiring glory.
Surely, if Eve existed, it meant that she had the inkling of a heart, however faint. So much had been taken from her. No wonder she’d never felt free. Surely, she deserved to have what all humans had—body, heart, mind and soul—if this was all that was left of her potential.
The part of her that rebelled as Lilith, who wanted to restore her godly powers, was gone. At least, Seven couldn’t feel the echo of her twin anymore, though she was starting to tap into Lilith’s memories.
She didn’t know what she wanted, except that the dragon quests had intrigued her as nothing else had done across the immeasurable time of her incarceration in the Celestial Realm. They were her creations, these magical, magnificent creatures. Her and her Twin.
She wanted them to be free. She wanted them to thrive.
Just like the Pure Ones, Dark Ones, Elementals and Beasts. She wanted their creations to outlast her own existence. Through them, the Twins would never die.
Maybe this was the purpose of the Prophesy. Not for Seven to radically overthrow the ruling gods and destroy the world as we knew it, but to leave it in better hands. Self-sustaining. Without the gods’ guidance and management.
Michael sighed, getting up from his seat on the hill, dusting his jeans off as he stood to stretch out his legs.
He’d stayed here all night, remembering.
Thinking.
With the rise of a new dawn, he felt the human passage of time in visceral ways that Seven didn’t feel in the timeless Celestial Realm. Michael could actually feel himself getting older.
Maybe a little wiser.
Perhaps that was the benefit of being human. You had to make the most of your tiny allotment of time on earth. Because of this, Michael’s desires burned hotter; his yearnings nigh impossible to ignore.
He wanted to be around Tal-Telal and soak in the man’s strength, his calming presence. He wanted to indulge in Mama Bear’s cooking and banter with Mike as Eve. And given that Ruth was a part of him now, he wanted to continue her habit of going to the library and maybe taking a catnap while surrounded by the comforting smell of books.
Most of all, he wanted Ben.
To talk to him, look at him, breathe him in and just be with him.
If he sifted through his memories right, Ben’s soul was the reason he lost his heart in the first place. Surely, he would also be the key to growing it back.
And then, maybe Michael would be whole. Or Eve. It didn’t matter which.
Maybe they would truly know, then, what it meant to be human.
Maybe they’d even find that being human wasn’t such a bad thing after all.